••• Friday, August 11, 2006
P is for
Present.
Just a small block of wood, painted green and tied with grosgrain paper ribbon. My son made it at school, in 1993, and gave it to me for Christmas.
Christmas of '93 was our first Christmas as a broken little family, and I had been more than little scared as the day approached. I wasn't so much scared for me, but for the boy and his unknown-to-me level of pain at facing yet another broken-family-related transition.
I was a little scared for myself, too. I worried that the dawning of this holiest of family days, in a newly broken home, would be the final straw for the camel that carried my son's trusting and accepting nature. I worried he would wake up, filled with hate and bitterness towards his parents, for ruining not only his life, but the magic of Christmas. Forever.
Oh ye Mom, of little faith.
Attached to this little wooden block, painted green and tied with grosgrain ribbon, was this poem:
Sweet, eh?
I'm not done.
Of course I hugged and cried and oohed and ahhed. And that was before I heard the story of what, exactly, went into the making of this little wooden block, painted green.
With big gray eyes unblinking, in the somber tone of a poet, my son explained how before the ribbon was tied, on the count of three, every first grader in the class blew a kiss into the top of their respective wooden blocks, painted green. After a brief reinactment of the event, including the bowing of his little skater-cut-towhead to blow the kiss, he said, "And then we tied the knot, to keep the love inside forever."
This Present has held a place of honor on my bedroom dresser since that time. ::Although by the looks of the paper, it may have served a stint in the kitchen at some point. I think that's spaghetti sauce.::
I'm proud to say that the original knot in the ribbon has not been untied since that day. Unfortunately, The Cakers has gotten her grubbin' mitts on it once or twice, and slid the ribbon off, knot intact.
But that's okay. A goofin' little sister can never take away the best Christmas present of all: Grace.
Other Stuff
I can't believe it's been almost a week since I last posted. It's been kind of nuts around here, although I can't assign blame to any one event. I was down for a day or so with a weird bug, from which I'm still sporting a headache.
We've also been scrambling to get stuff done for The Cakers' upcoming kindergarten debut. ::We've already been labelled the Problem Family by the powers that be, which be the school secretary, of course. This on account of missing the part in the paperwork where it said to have all turned in by March 17, 2006.::
The anniversary escape was nice, but it's too weird and quiet up there without the girl. That being said, I very much enjoyed a full hour of raft floating, with impunity.
Here's my most recent shot my most recent run of CeCe.
I have no idea why blogger wouldn't upload it width-wise, but it matters not. Not long after taking the picture, I done ripped her anew. For good. It just wasn't going to work. Gauge matters, people. So, CeCe ya later. Maybe next spring?
I'm still in need of a nice little brown cardie for fall, and continue to look for the perfect pattern for the Sierra.
In the meantime, my weekend schedule is already packed, so maybe no mo' blogging for another coupla.
Ediot Note: I'm sorry for all the republishes on this post, but every time I'd publish and reread, I'd find chunks of text had disappeared, or corrections showed up in places I didn't put them. Last time, I promise. 4:30 EST.
Just a small block of wood, painted green and tied with grosgrain paper ribbon. My son made it at school, in 1993, and gave it to me for Christmas.
Christmas of '93 was our first Christmas as a broken little family, and I had been more than little scared as the day approached. I wasn't so much scared for me, but for the boy and his unknown-to-me level of pain at facing yet another broken-family-related transition.
I was a little scared for myself, too. I worried that the dawning of this holiest of family days, in a newly broken home, would be the final straw for the camel that carried my son's trusting and accepting nature. I worried he would wake up, filled with hate and bitterness towards his parents, for ruining not only his life, but the magic of Christmas. Forever.
Oh ye Mom, of little faith.
Attached to this little wooden block, painted green and tied with grosgrain ribbon, was this poem:
Sweet, eh?
I'm not done.
Of course I hugged and cried and oohed and ahhed. And that was before I heard the story of what, exactly, went into the making of this little wooden block, painted green.
With big gray eyes unblinking, in the somber tone of a poet, my son explained how before the ribbon was tied, on the count of three, every first grader in the class blew a kiss into the top of their respective wooden blocks, painted green. After a brief reinactment of the event, including the bowing of his little skater-cut-towhead to blow the kiss, he said, "And then we tied the knot, to keep the love inside forever."
This Present has held a place of honor on my bedroom dresser since that time. ::Although by the looks of the paper, it may have served a stint in the kitchen at some point. I think that's spaghetti sauce.::
I'm proud to say that the original knot in the ribbon has not been untied since that day. Unfortunately, The Cakers has gotten her grubbin' mitts on it once or twice, and slid the ribbon off, knot intact.
But that's okay. A goofin' little sister can never take away the best Christmas present of all: Grace.
Other Stuff
I can't believe it's been almost a week since I last posted. It's been kind of nuts around here, although I can't assign blame to any one event. I was down for a day or so with a weird bug, from which I'm still sporting a headache.
We've also been scrambling to get stuff done for The Cakers' upcoming kindergarten debut. ::We've already been labelled the Problem Family by the powers that be, which be the school secretary, of course. This on account of missing the part in the paperwork where it said to have all turned in by March 17, 2006.::
The anniversary escape was nice, but it's too weird and quiet up there without the girl. That being said, I very much enjoyed a full hour of raft floating, with impunity.
Here's my most recent shot my most recent run of CeCe.
I have no idea why blogger wouldn't upload it width-wise, but it matters not. Not long after taking the picture, I done ripped her anew. For good. It just wasn't going to work. Gauge matters, people. So, CeCe ya later. Maybe next spring?
I'm still in need of a nice little brown cardie for fall, and continue to look for the perfect pattern for the Sierra.
In the meantime, my weekend schedule is already packed, so maybe no mo' blogging for another coupla.
Ediot Note: I'm sorry for all the republishes on this post, but every time I'd publish and reread, I'd find chunks of text had disappeared, or corrections showed up in places I didn't put them. Last time, I promise. 4:30 EST.
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